They Did Not Come Here to Heal

They did not

come here to heal,

Make no mistake

my friend, the ballot

in your hands is

not a bullet. Not even

bullets can pierce

their armour, for 

they rule with fear

as we roll in 

our self-dug graves.

They have found

three hundred and

seventy seven ways to

fuck us over...father,

mother, brother, son,

sister, uncle,

nothing matters

for we are all sick

and there is no 

pill to kill

our pain.

They did not 

come here to heal.

They did not 

come hear to heal,

or hear appeals

my friend...we are

just worker ants,

marching in our

invisible striped pants.

They are not sorry 

for Sori or Irom

and Kashmir's

just cash, don't be rash,

it doesn't matter if you

prefer a feast of 

friends to their 

giant family.

Your roof is held to 

ransom and you

thank them, though 

your world is broken and

Modi-fied,they did not 

come here to heal.

So nine to five we

work and sing anthems,

oh so grateful,

that our slave masters

have not snatched the bread 

from our mouths (till now).

Anyhow,Hashmi's fears 

are unfounded,and you can 

sleep easy on your bed

for there is no dream 

in your head left to

die my friend, this is the end.

They did not come here to heal.

Anirban Kapil Baishya (December 12th, 2013)